Nightmares
by WWSmith
Summary: Trapped in the TARDIS with the Doctor, the Master must chose between nightmares and drumming or admitting need and taking help.  10/Master.  Post Season 3 AU.  Spoilers for Season 3.


A.N.: Welcome to magical happy land where the Master wasn't shot during the conclusion of "The Last of the Time Lords"! This story was inspired by _The Guild of the Cowry Catchers_ by Abigail Hilton, "Rx – Stop What You're Doing" by Marian Call and the _Berserk_ anime. The line about finding a Dalek, keeping it in a jar and calling it "Lars" is borrowed from Girl on the Moon's excellent fan comic "Search for Truth" which can be found on dA.

Nightmares

Death was everywhere. It surrounded him like an endless, sucking void that tore at his very soul. He tried to run, but it caught him; he tried to fight, but his violence only made it stronger; he tried to scream, but there was no one to hear. The fires of the Time War were hot around him. He could feel the heat around his body echoing the terror in his hearts. It was going to destroy him. Black monstrosities reached out, holding guns and limbs and pieces of animals undone by interference. Behind the front, a million Time Lords and Daleks died horrific deaths over and over again. He couldn't escape it. Just as he was going to suffocate, the illusion broke.

* * *

The Master woke up screaming. He sat up and tried to force his hearts to stop imitating a runaway horse. The TARDIS, which was specifically designed for the comfort and health of its occupants, seemed a very dangerous place. He only had a few moments to recover before the knock came. Three times. He had knocked only three times. Not four. It wasn't the drumming, although those accused beats still rang out in his head.

"Master?" Said a voice from beyond the door. "Are you alright? Can I come in?" He wanted to tell the Doctor to go get stuffed, but he just couldn't find the air for speech. Damn binary vascular system. It was supposed to prevent this sort of thing. "Master," said the voice again, "I'm coming in." The door swung open to reveal the Doctor. He always seemed smaller without the layers of clothing he normally wore. Instead of a suit and coat, the Doctor now wore a set of blue flannel pajamas he probably bought on 1940s Earth. "Did you have another nightmare?"

"No," spat the Master, "I found a Dalek under the bed. I've decided to keep him in a jar and call him Lars." The Doctor gave him a funny look. It took all of the Master's remaining dignity not to smack the mixture of pity and confusion off his skinny face.

"I can help."

"Would you stop trying to fix me? You sound like a neurotic girlfriend." Instead of getting offended, the Doctor only smiled. How did he always manage to deflect insults like that?

"Probably because I care about you." The Master rolled his eyes but secretly filed away the sentence to savor later. "Listen," the Doctor continued, "I have nightmares too, I understand…"

The Master cut him off, retorting "Oh, no. We're not going down nostalgia lane." The Doctor let himself be interrupted without a word of protest or even annoyance. The Master fought the urge to hit him again.

"Have it your way. I was only going to say that sleeping with someone else in the room helps me. It's better than trying to stay up for days on end." The Master glared at him. This was something the Doctor had no basis on. Asleep or awake, the Master was haunted. He had to choose between the drums and the nightmares. Usually, the drums were the more tolerable option. The Doctor provided distraction much of the time, so even though the four beats were never silent, they were a smaller part of his awareness. During the first week in the TARDIS, the Master had attempted to stop sleeping altogether – an effort that ended with him collapsing on the floor and being literally dragged off to bed. He hadn't tried it since. However, the Master wasn't about to admit to any of this.

"Trying to sleep with me, Doctor," cooed the Master playfully. "Messing about with companions?" The expression on the Doctor's face was familiar: guilt and anger. He was so easy to goad.

"I'm going back to bed," was all the Doctor said as he walked out. The Master looked after him curiously; he had only meant the comment as a jab at their shared past and all the pain that lay mixed up in it, but it seemed as if he had struck a different nerve entirely. The Master laid back down and rolled over. _'You don't need me,'_ he lied to himself, _'and I don't need you either.' _ It couldn't have been any farther from the truth. Most Time Lords avoided being alone, but both the Doctor and the Master particularly loathed it. It was part of what had driven the Master towards the Doctor all those centuries ago. Parents who shortly became former pair after his tenth birthday left him without any home life to speak off. His cohorts quickly learned that his personality was unstable — even for a child — and avoided him. The Master's childhood had been completely devoid of people save for a fellow outcast called Theta Sigma. He was the only person the young Master had trusted with his own weakness. But the young Time Lord with the uncanny ability to make him let go of his need for control and let someone else help was long swallowed up. Centuries after that relationship had been transformed by an act of madness, the Master was pulled towards nightmares.

* * *

Ehdrani was burning. The Master stood alone among the wreck, watching what remained of the blue-green forests boil away into the night. He hadn't like assignments like this at first, but it wasn't long before he had learned to appreciate the eldritch joy that came from utterly destroying a world. The Master didn't know what Ehdrani's sin had been, nor did he care. This planet was his. He was its god, its master. He fed on the energy that the world below gave up in a shriek of a million beings dying. Drunk on power, the Master threw back his head and laughed.

All of a sudden, a shadow fell over the hill the Master was standing on. He turned around to see a massive blackness looming over him. In an instant, he went from god upon high to insect beneath the dirt. Compared to his monster, he was nothing. Somehow, the Master knew that this scene was not meant to end this way. He wasn't supposed to be alone here to die in the wave of despair that had taken the form of night personified. His friend should have been beside him, holding his hand and telling him that it would be alright, that he was better than this, that he could do more that just destroy. But he wasn't there; the Master had driven him away and now he would be engulfed by the darkness.

But then he wasn't alone. The Doctor was there, standing with him as it was meant to be. He took the Master's hand and let his strength flow into his battered mind. The monster diminished, the flickered and faded away.

"Doctor…" The other smiled and kissed him on the forehead, an old gesture that let him communicate what his cautious nature would not allow to be spoken. He hugged the Master, then walked away. The world became peaceful as the nightmare gave way to lighter sleep.

* * *

The Doctor carefully pulled himself away from the Master's sleeping form. He slipped out of the room quietly and shut the door. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would have to do for now. The Doctor leaned against the wall and felt very useless. He couldn't do anything truly effective without the Master's consent – what the other lacked in other areas of mentality was largely present in an overdevelopment of suggestion and defense. It was only because of the vulnerable nightmare state that the Doctor had been able to get in at all. Still, he'd had to try. Even in the dark times after their fight at the Academy, he still loved the Master, deep down. He stood outside the Master's door for a long time, then went to his own room to sleep alone.

* * *

The door flung open. The Doctor sat blot upright as the Master crossed the room in three angry strides and grabbed him by the shirtfront. "Don't ever, _ever_ do that to me again." He said furiously. The Doctor waited for him to continue. When he didn't, he tried to explain.

"I was trying to help."

"Don't. Stay out of my head. It's a very nasty place."

"Then why don't you let me make it better?" The Master threw the Doctor against the bed in fit of anger.

"Stop trying to fix me!" He pulled back his fist to make him shut up for good, but let it fall when the look on the Doctor's face brought him back to a terrible day in both their lives. His first life was screaming in the back of his mind. The Master stepped back. "You shouldn't keep me here."  
"You're my responsibility."

"I'll kill you if you don't let me go."

"You had me for a year and you never laid a hand on me." The Doctor said simply. That wasn't exactly true, but it was close enough. "If you were going to kill me, you would have done it." The Master fixed the Doctor with a look that could have melted steel.

"What in Omega's name is wrong with you?" He shouted. "I've tortured you and killed you and hurt your friends and hurt you every chance I got! You think I'm the crazy one? You're the idiot who can't even stay away from his worst enemy!" If this affected the Doctor, he refused to show it.

"Master, I never stopped caring about you. I can't help it." He let some of his emotion show on his face. "And I wouldn't even if I could." The Master stared at his captor at a loss for what to say.

"You're a fool." He said, shaking his head in disbelief. The anger had faded to a dying ember in his mind. In the absence of the firestorm, another emotion was taking root. "You're the biggest damn fool I ever met."

"Probably." The Doctor got up and stood next to the Master. "But lots of people have told me that before. Most of them are dead or miserable now." The Master tried to get mad again. He wanted the new feeling to be silent, but the flames were dead. The refuge of hate he depended on had collapsed in the face of such calm. The Master felt out of control and weak. He wished his mind would slip out of focus again so he could turn back into the insane being who never thought farther than revenge. He didn't want to admit that the Doctor had gotten through to him. The Master tried to stare the other down, but the Doctor refused the challenge and returned the look coolly. "I'll stay out of your nightmares if you really want me to, but I'm not going to stop caring about you." He put a hand on the Master's shoulder. It was the first time someone had touched him out of honest kindness in centuries. The Master felt the swell of helpless isolation overcome him. He was so tired. For centuries he had depended only on himself – trusting no one and loving no one. Now, the one person who should by all logic and justice hate him was confessing undying concern for him.

But it ran deeper than that. The Master was all too aware that the Doctor was incapable of saying that he loved someone. Over the years, he had found subtle ways of letting people know how he felt without using the words directly. Instead of hate he deserved and fed off, the Doctor offered the Master love. It didn't make sense, didn't fit within the fiery but safe reality the Master had built his mental state on. The defenses had been put out by the unwarranted reactions of the Doctor. With nothing to hide behind, the Master felt his fundamental emotions in full force – sadness, fear, frustration and a terrible loneliness. Despite his determination not to appear weak, the Master broke down under the stress of it all.

He was so unaccustomed to comfort, such a stranger to the rush of despair, that he didn't even notice when the Doctor gathered him up. He didn't notice when the Doctor sat him down on the bed, or when he spoke soothing words into ears used to screams of agony, or when he finally fell silent and held him protectively. When the Master came back to himself, he found himself lying next to the Doctor, secure in his friend's embrace.

"Can I stay here tonight?" He asked when his throat became clear enough. "I don't want to be alone."

"You can stay here as long as you want. You were always welcome." The Doctor looked him in the eye. "And you always will be." They kissed then, slowly and carefully. It would take time for them to put things back together, but they had all the time in the world now. The Master drifted off to sleep and did not wake until the morning when the Doctor stirred beside him.


End file.
